


The whisper of leaves and a song of stone

by Kalanna



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Forbidden Love, Romance, Seduction, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-19 16:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7368250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalanna/pseuds/Kalanna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin Oakenshield and company have been captured by the woodland elves of Mirkwood, among them Tauriel. The dwarves are now safely locked up in the dungeon, but Tauriel is finding it difficult to keep Kili and his flirtatious comments and dark eyes out of her mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The first section of dialogue is taken from _The Hobbit_ film and is not my own. This scene from the film has been recounted to form a basis for the rest of the fic.

  
  


She lingered on the floor above for what felt like minutes on end. Was that his silhouette, slumped in the doorway of the cell? She could see him in profile; the stubble around his mouth, his lips… she ached to feel them on her. 

She kept him in the corner of her eye as she pretended to check that the dwarves were all safe in their cells. He was sitting close to the bars, flipping something up in the air with his thumb, then catching it again as it fell. She stopped by his cell as though on an afterthought, and watched him for a second; the black stone flipped again and dropped into his palm.

“The stone in your hand, what is it?” she asked.

His eyes turned to her, dark and inscrutable. “It is a talisman. A powerful spell lies upon it. If any but a dwarf reads the runes on the stone, they will be forever cursed…”

He held the stone up to the light for her to see. Instinctively she backed away. Embarrassment flushed behind her cheeks as she realised the mistake she had made. A foolish, beginner’s mistake, that mocked both her position and her years of experience. The dwarf was a prisoner here, an enemy of all elves by nature. His flirtation before had been an attempt to manipulate her, nothing more, and she had been foolish enough to let it catch her imagination. No, more than that… she had been deluded enough to let her mind play out the fantasy. 

She had already taken a hurried step away when she noticed the smile playing around the corner of his mouth.

“Or not,” he said, too quickly. “Depending on whether you believe that kind of thing. It’s just a token… a runestone. My mother gave it to me so I’d remember my promise.”

She couldn’t read him at all. Still wary, she drew nearer again. “What promise?”

“That I would come back to her.” He tossed the stone in the air again. “She worries. She thinks I’m reckless.”

She drew in a deep breath. “And are you?”

He flashed her his quick grin, the same one that had stolen the breath from her lungs the first time he had turned it unexpectedly in her direction. “Nah.”

She knew she should leave. The dwarf was a captive, an enemy of her people; it would do little good to indulge this fantasy - for it was a fantasy, nothing more. It could never be anything more. Yet, she found herself sitting on the steps outside his cell, leaning in towards him as he spoke. There was no lull in their conversation, no pause that let her gather herself, break it off and return to the festivities that were still going on loudly above their heads. As he spoke, she found herself helplessly watching the shape of his mouth, imagining how the soft hairs of his beard would feel against her skin. If he knew where her thoughts went… he would probably be horrified, she concluded. Amused, no doubt, that she took his flirtation seriously, that she had even considered it so far as to be attracted to him. This was a visceral attraction, she told herself. She could conquer it easily; it meant nothing.

He froze, suddenly, mid-sentence and his eyes narrowed. At the same time, she sensed a presence behind her, as though a hurried footfall had disturbed the dust at the top of the stairs. As she followed the dwarf’s gaze, she saw a familiar shadow bend and disappear around the corner. Legolas.

She gave the dwarf a tight smile, shaken at last out of her captivity, embarrassed by the places her mind had wandered. “I have delayed long enough. Enjoy your supper, dwarf,” she said, throwing his race at him to insult him, to distance herself, to remind them both. Then she turned and strode up the stairs before he could speak again and drag her back.

*****

The feast of starlight was in full swing, loud, hearty, and replete with the Elf King’s best wines. Legolas noted her return, of that she was certain, but he did not acknowledge her. She found little joy in the party. There was a heat in her, and the more of Thranduil’s wine she drank, the stronger it grew. What is wrong with me? Her head swam, and her mind kept being dragged back down to the dungeons until it seemed to her that she was indeed ill, and the only cure was to return to those depths and place her throbbing head against the cool stone outside his cell. 

It was folly, of course. It could have been the wine that gave her courage, or perhaps the loneliness that she had felt for the last few years finally caught up with her. For so long, she had carefully avoided any entanglements - including, of course, maintaining the delicate balance between rejecting Legolas and keeping him as a friend and lord - and built up her reputation as a skilled warrior… respected. She tried to push these thoughts away as she strode down the steps. Thirteen pairs of eyes fixed on her.

She stopped outside his cell, and he rose to his feet. He seemed genuinely happy to see her again; his dark eyes glowed with warmth and playfulness both as he came close to the bars between them. She kept her face cold.

“You. The King of the Woodland Realm wishes to speak with you.”

She saw the momentary surprise flicker in his face, the warmth evaporate. He nodded stiffly, but before he could reply, a voice came from the other cell.

“Tell your king that we are done bandying senseless words. I am Thorin, rightful King under the mountain. If he wishes to speak with any here, let him speak with me, and I will tell him that to his girlish face.”

She turned to face the other dwarf, shielding her expression in her authority as his gaoler. “Yes, I have heard of the dwarves and their famed skill with words. The king wishes to speak to the archer.”

Thorin gripped the bars of his cell with both hands. “What does he want with him?” he demanded. 

Despite his rough tone, she was surprised to see real concern in his face. ‘The king does not share his plans with me,’ she told him, turning back to Kili and unlocking the door to his cell. The thought occurred to her too late that the other dwarves locked inside with him might try to rush the door and overpower her, but no one moved. She swung it shut quickly behind Kili and locked it again, indicating with her head that he should walk before her up the stairs.

They made their way upwards and through the first dark passage, a guard escorting a prisoner. They met no one, and the sound of the revels overhead grew slowly louder as they left the bowels of the palace. She hadn’t thought it through this far, she realised. She had simply wanted to be with him, alone, without the obstruction of bars between them, without the weight of twelve pairs of hostile eyes pressing on their every movement. She didn’t know what to do now; of course, she couldn’t actually take him to the king, but she didn’t know how to move forward, and every option that presented itself seemed either ridiculous or embarrassingly forward.  
As though he read her mind, he halted in front of her, so suddenly that she almost stumbled against his back. When he turned round, their bodies were so close that she could feel the heat of him against her skin. Although his head came up little higher than her waist, she became acutely aware of his breathing, her breathing, mingling and filling the silence of the darkened corridor.

He reached out and took her hand. “Tauriel,” he murmured.

Her pulse jumped instantly at the sound of her name from his lips. He must have felt it, because his rough fingers rubbed gently against her wrist and a small smile appeared at the corners of his mouth.

She hadn’t realised that they had stopped at a point in the passage where the wall billowed out to create a ledge until he placed his hands around her waist and pushed her onto it. She couldn’t help but laugh. He had planned this even as she had been considering how she could let it come about. Where she sat, his head topped hers by almost an inch. On-level now, he grinned, then tightened his fingers around her and pulled her against his body. She had heard that dwarves were deceptively strong for their size, but now she could feel the proof of it. An involuntary gasp escaped her as the sensation of him - warmth, hard muscle and masculine scent - overwhelmed her.

His grin only widened. Their faces were close now, so close that she could feel his breath against her lips. He moved forward slowly, almost touching his lips to hers, but drawing back at the last moment. She was left with almost a taste, a sensation in the air where his mouth had left her wanting. She heard a frustrated groan, and only realised a second later that it had come from her own mouth. He had barely touched her, she realised, yet already an ache, a wetness, was growing between her legs. It took an effort not to rub herself up against him like some wanton forest creature.

He was watching her, his expression… she couldn’t read it. He wasn’t going to kiss her, she realised. He had taken their encounter this far; he wanted to see whether she would end it, remind him who was the prisoner and who the guard. She knew she should. But she had let it get this far, let him crush her against the wall, and they both knew what she wanted now; there was little point in pretend modesty. With a frustrated sigh, she erased the distance between their two mouths and kissed him gently, teasingly. She ran her tongue along his lower lip, tasting him and letting him taste her, holding back but inviting him to press forward.

At once, all the tension left his body. He crushed her against him and kissed her, hungrily, powerfully, exactly as she had imagined him doing ever since she had first locked him in that cell. His beard was rougher than she had imagined, but the feel of it against her face was… exciting, there was no other word for it. Her legs parted as her body opened up him, and he stepped closer, in between her thighs, still holding her against him, until he pressed against the most private part of her. She could feel his hardness through his trousers, and her breath came in ragged gasps as she felt him push up against her wetness as though trying to break free of his bonds.  
One of his hands slipped around from behind her waist and she felt a touch, light as a feather, there, where she needed it. The resolve she had felt to refrain from acting wanton was fast evaporating beneath his firm tongue and clever fingers. She found herself pressing back against him, moaning as he touched her, even through her clothes. His fingers traced the wet fabric, drawing across her skin in small circles between her thighs.

He was panting too, she realised, and a glance at his trousers showed her that he wanted her as much as she wanted him. Already, his fingers were working their way inside her clothes, through the layers of fabric and down. They trailed her stomach, making her shiver in anticipation and need. He paused, teasingly, with his fingers lingering just above the juncture of her thighs.

Hardly caring now, she arched her body up towards them. “Yes, Kili, yes,” she begged. Finally he touched her, his fingers descending into the soft folds of flesh, rubbing, circling and moving down. They felt rougher in that delicate area, and she almost cried out when he paused for a second and his thumb slipped inside her, tasting her wetness and rubbing just around the edge before withdrawing. 

Responding to her pleasure, his hand stilled for a moment. Just as she caught her breath against the sudden cessation of feeling, he slid his fingers smoothly inside her again, firmly, almost roughly, with a little circling motion that made her cry out.

He paused at that, and frowned down at her. “No one can hear us here, can they?” he whispered.

Truth be told, she hardly cared at that point, but she shook her head. “No, we are several floors beneath the revel hall. No one should come this way for hours, not until they check on the prisoners…” She trailed off.

He grinned at her, seeming to bear no malice towards her for his prisoner status. “Don’t worry, I’ll be a good boy, safe and sound in my cell by then.”

She didn’t know quite how to answer that, but he pressed his lips to hers again. His fingers continued their gentle assault, siding deep inside her with insistence until she felt the pleasure building behind them. He could feel it too, and if he was surprised that he had brought her so close to the edge so quickly, he did not show it. Instead, without ceasing the movement of his fingers, he drew away from her and squatted down between her legs. Although she was not touching him, he was panting as heavily as she was. His fingers felt so good inside her that she felt she could hardly bear it any longer. Then, as she watched, he lowered his head and bit her between her legs, gently but firmly, through the now-soaked cloth of her undergarments. His tongue moved just once over the damp fabric, but that sensation was enough to send her over the edge. She began to convulse around his fingers. Somehow the fear of getting caught, the knowledge of what was at stake, only intensified the pleasure. As she squirmed against his tongue, his other hand came up to cover her mouth, and she let herself succumb to the feelings he created in her.

“Yes,” she felt him murmur against her crotch as she stilled. He slid his fingers out of her wetness and raised them to his lips, licking them clean of the taste of her. She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t find the words she needed… she didn’t want this to end, she wanted to touch him, to give him the pleasure he had given her, and to take it further. Between her thighs, she throbbed with sated intensity, but she still craved the feeling of skin crushed against skin. And she wanted to tear off the breeches that hid him from her and take his member in her hands, feel him slide into her, up to the hilt, and fill her where his fingers had been but moments earlier. 

Kili was looking at her, crumpled weakly against the wall, in obvious satisfaction, but he clearly had no intention of taking their encounter further. Maybe he had some ludicrous concern for her honour, she thought distractedly. 

He put out a hand to help her to her feet. “Now, shall we go see what that king of yours wants?”

She stared at him in surprise. He waited, his expression growing perplexed as she tried to contain her laugher. “The king?” she gave him her most serious face. “You thought we were actually…” The rest of the sentence was lost as laughter got the better of her.

Realisation was starting to show in his face. “You…” He looked slightly hurt to have his clever seduction shattered before his eyes. His expression went from shocked to confused to delighted in a matter of seconds. He started to laugh. “You had me worried when you first came down, you know,” he murmured.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me this was just your way of delaying an unpleasant meeting?”

He laughed lightly and looked her straight in the eye. The frankness of his gaze was almost disconcerting. “This,” he said, with all seriousness, “was something I’ve been wanting to do since I first saw you.” He seized her again, kissing her firmly. But just as she was starting to sink into his arms again, he pulled away, glancing down ruefully at his trousers. “But,” he said, “I did promise to behave myself. You’d better take me back to the others before I change my mind.”

She hesitated, and he grinned again at her obvious reluctance. He was reaching for her again when the shadows around them suddenly contorted and a flickering glow appeared on the wall ahead. Voices could be heard down the passage, growing closer and heading towards them. They sprung apart.

“Sentries!” she whispered. “They mustn’t find you outside the cell.”

He nodded swiftly, and they slipped into the darker shadows that led back to the dungeon.

*****

to be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a short chapter. I've also changed the name of the fic (the old one was only ever really just a placeholder), so I hope that doesn't confuse anyone :p

  
  


She awoke when the first weak rays of sunlight filtered through the canopy. As soon as she opened her eyes, she wished she hadn’t. Memories trickled back from the night before, breaking through the buzzing in her head left by too much strong Mirkwood wine. She pressed her fingers to her face, trying to suppress the heat in her cheeks with their coolness. What had she done? Had she really forsaken her duty and let… and let a prisoner out of the dungeon, her mind finished weakly, swerving away from the more interesting memories from last night that pushed persistently at the borders of her consciousness.

No matter, she told herself. The dwarf was back in his cell. No harm had been done. She realised her nails were digging into the skin of her cheeks, and she forced her hands to relax. She repeated the words as a mantra, trying to calm herself. The dwarf was back in his cell. No harm had been done. Last night never happened.

Perhaps it had only been a dream? Her memories were muddled with wine, to be sure. Perhaps she had simply stumbled back to her room and slipped into a fitful sleep, haunted with images of him, and only imagined his lips on her body, their breath mingled together… embarrassing, no doubt, but nothing more. Unwillingly, she tried to think back and piece together everything that had happened. In her mind, she was back in that dark passageway, his solid presence between her legs, the touch of his lips and the scent of him on her skin, and his fingers…

She shook herself, and the image dispersed in tendrils. No dream could be that vivid. No dream could cause desire to thud through her veins again simply at the memory.

The solution was simple; she would simply not put herself in his path again. Last night would fade away as though it had never happened. He would not say anything, surely? She pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. Perhaps he was already boasting to his friends of how he had left a she-elf panting with lust for him. Could whispers of his story reach the ears of his guards? No… who would believe him? Who, anywhere, would believe that an elf would ever disgrace herself in such a way with a dwarf, an enemy of her people, and a prisoner at that?

With a strangled sigh, she buried her head in the bedclothes again, her face burning to the tips of her ears. How could she have forgotten herself in such a way? How had she let this happen?

Her fevered thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. 

"Captain? The King has summoned you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! Now we start to stray away from the story-line of the films :)

Tauriel dressed swiftly, trying to keep her face smooth and panic-free. It was not that unusual for a summons from Thranduil to interrupt her at any time of the day or night. The timing was poor, but it was surely nothing more than a coincidence. She took a deep breath, readying herself for whatever might come, trying to make her face unreadable and as cold as steel as she made her way to the throne room.

No sooner had she crossed the threshold than she felt that her heart stopped beating in her chest. _He_ was there, standing just to the right of the throne in which Thranduil languished in his usual careless fashion, his long legs stretched out so that his boots rested against the carved arm of his seat. Kili’s face lit up the moment she entered the room; she was painfully aware of his expression and his stare, but she avoided meeting his gaze. She shut her eyes for a second, imploring the Valar for strength.

She tried to read Thranduil’s expression as she approached the throne, but she could see nothing there but his usual laconic disdain. But for what other reason would Kili be here? He must have bragged loudly of his night-time exploits, she thought angrily, for word to have reached the King’s ears so fast. If accused, she didn’t think she had the strength to deny it. If this was to be her reckoning, she would not fight it; she had disgraced herself, she was well aware, and she would accept the king’s justice.

“My king,” she said stiffly, kneeling before the throne. “I am yours to command.”

Thranduil raised a hand languidly, gesturing for her to rise.

“Tauriel,” he acknowledged her. “I regret that I have something of an unpleasant task for you.” A twitch of his lips betrayed his lack of actual regret. “This dwarf-” he waved his hand towards Kili “of the line of Durin himself, no less-” he said mockingly, “will be dwelling here for a time.” His thick brows drew together. “He will ensure that his uncle keeps his promise to me.”

She felt as though she was swimming up towards the light after too long underwater. His words sounded hazy and far off; her head swam dizzily with relief. She swallowed, trying to bring some moisture back to her dry throat.

“He will be staying… here?” she managed.

Thranduil gave her a curious look. “Indeed. While he is with us, he is to be in your charge. He is not our prisoner-” he smirked, “as such. Yet, nor is he free to leave the confines of the palace. Within these walls, he may come and go as he pleases. Should he stray or take advantage of our hospitality in any way, the responsibility will lie with you.”

She nodded slowly, still trying to make sense of his words. 

Legolas’ clear voice remonstrated with his father as he stepped forward angrily. “My lord, Tauriel is a warrior, not a babysitter.”

“Tauriel is whatever I say she is,” the king returned coldly, his eyes fixed on her bowed head, ignoring his son. He waved his hand in a sweep that encompassed both her and Kili. “Take him out of my sight, the air is beginning to reek of dwarf.”

She bowed again deeply. “My lord.”

She had avoided looking directly at Kili until now. When her eyes finally found his face, she was left in no doubt that the night before had been more than a dream. She swallowed again.

“Come, dwarf.”

*****

Legolas was behind them as they left the throne room. 

“Tauriel. A word.”

She turned to Kili. “Stay here and don’t move,” she commanded. 

He gave her a quick smile, but his eyes were serious. “You know I’ll do anything you ask.”

She shot him a warning look and followed Legolas. Anger and concern were playing across the prince’s expression, and he seized her arm as soon as they were out of earshot.

“Tauriel, I do not like this.”

She pulled away from him. “My lord-”

“I have seen the way the dwarf stares at you,” he snapped. There was accusation in his tone.

She felt a pound of fear in her chest. “I can do little about that,” she said fiercely. “Let him stare; he will soon grow tired of it.”

“I do not want you spending time with him.”

Privately she agreed with him. She had resolved to keep a distance between her and the dwarf, and this new development would make it harder than ever.

Out loud, she reminded him: “I am a subject. If your father commands me, I must obey.”

A dark look crossed his face. “I begged my father to return the dwarf to the dungeons, but he would not listen to me. Nor did I agree with letting Oakenshield and company depart. It is folly to think that a dwarf will keep his word-” he broke off and shook his head in frustration. “Let us head back.”

They walked back to where Kili was waiting for them. Good as his word, he hadn’t moved.

“Tauriel, take the dwarf and show him the extent of his new prison.” Legolas cast an eye over Kili and wrinkled his nose in an exaggerated show of disgust. “Perhaps you should start with the bath-houses. He reeks, like all his kind.”

Kili gave him a grin, without malice. “That’s the sweet smell of your own dungeons, elf-prince. We dwarves are usually much more fragrant.”

Legolas’ face tightened grimly. In a deliberate movement, he took Tauriel’s hand between his own, his eyes not straying from the dwarf’s face. Kili’s smile vanished as Legolas pressed Tauriel’s fingers to his lips, ignoring her own expression of discomfort.

“Be careful,” he warned her. “He is a dwarf; do not trust him.”


	4. Chapter 4

  
  


“Tauriel.”

He was walking fast to keep up with her. She didn’t turn now, mostly because she didn’t know what she could say to him.

She felt his fingers close around her wrist.

“Tauriel,” he said firmly, and she came to a halt and turned to look at him at last. His face was creased with concern. “You’re so far away.”

She was painfully aware of the warmth of his fingers against her wrist. It terrified her that even so light and innocent a touch could send shivers through her body. Despite her determination, she could feel a tingle that started from the point that his hands touched her skin and ran through the rest of her body as warm heat. As though reading the direction of her thoughts, he moved closer.

“Kili,” she said slowly. “This… cannot happen. Put everything that happened last night from your thoughts. It was a terrible mistake.

His fingers ran lightly up the inside of her arm. “Not so terrible, surely?” he asked softly.

She moved her arm firmly out of his reach. “Yes, terrible. I could lose everything here.”

He didn’t look disheartened. “So, what you’re saying is that, no matter how strongly we both feel, you want to keep things… professional?”

She breathed out. “Exactly.”

His eyes glinted mischievously. “So you admit then that you have …strong feelings for me.”

She sighed. “I admit I was briefly attracted to you, but it is a passing thing. I’ve already forgotten it, and you should too.” She crushed his flirtation with leaden practicality.

He looked down at his hands. “So that’s all this is, then? A brief misguided attraction?”

“What else could it be?” she asked. “I am an elf, you are a dwarf. That’s all the answer you need.”

“I don’t care about that,” he said heatedly, reaching for her again. 

She extricated herself from his grip once more. “But I do.”

He was silent for a while. 

“Very well,” he said finally. “If that’s really your wish. I won’t touch you unless you want me to.” He let out a deep breath. “However, if your king Thranduil is to be believed, I’ll be staying here for quite some time. If that’s so, we need to be able to talk to one another civilly, don’t you think?”

An elf turned the corner and glided past, giving the pair of them a frankly curious look. Too late, Tauriel realised how odd they must look: the captain of the guard and a dwarf who until recently had been her prisoner, standing face to flushed face in the corridor, closer than they should be. She took a step back.

“Yes,” she conceded, “we may talk.”

He smiled. “Good. So should I tell you how much I’m enjoying the dark pink that your skin turns when you’re embarrassed?” He paused and his eyes danced at her. “In light of our new agreement, though, perhaps though I should stop short of telling you that I want to run my tongue down…” he gestured to the open neck of her shirt where it tapered down to her collarbone, and moved his fingers suggestively downwards. 

She felt her pulse increase imperceptibly. “You promised,” she said weakly. “You mustn’t say such things.”

He laughed, a warming sound that filled the corridor. “Oh I never agreed to that. I said I would never touch you against your wish, and I’ll hold to that, but I never said I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to change your mind.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “I have a thousand years of patience, dwarf.”

He shook his head. “Kili.”

“What?”

“Not ‘dwarf’. Kili.”

“Fine,” she said, abashed. “Kili. Now come. I promised Legolas I would find you a bath.”

*****

He made a guttural sound of pleasure when he saw the white steaming waters of the bath-house before him. Without waiting for an attendant, he started to strip off his clothes.

Tauriel meant to avert her eyes, but the sight of him shirtless, the broad muscles of his chest dusted with dark hair that trailed in a tantalising line down to the waistband of his trousers, froze her in place. He paused, his hands at the buttons of his trousers, and shot her a grin. 

“Enjoying the view?”

She swallowed and turned her back firmly. She heard him laugh again behind her, followed by the sounds of more clothes hitting the floor. Finally she heard the splash that meant it was safe for her open her eyes. She clenched her teeth. She could get through this. Get through this? Without jumping on him, you mean? her inner voice mocked.

When she turned round he was waist deep – thankfully – in the steaming pool. Droplets of sweat were gathering on his chest from the heat. For one disturbing instant, she imagined what it would be like to trail her tongue through them and taste him.

As though he read her thoughts, he swirled his hands invitingly through the silky water. “Why don’t you join me?” He kicked back and floated on the water for a second; she thanked the Valar that the clouds of steam stirred up by his movements obscured her view of him.

“I’m already clean,” she replied primly, taking a seat on one of the benches that ran alongside the pool.

“Well I’m not,” he said with relish, dunking his dark head beneath the surface of the water. When he resurfaced, he swam towards the edge of the pool where she sat and leant his arms against the side.

“Will you wash my back for me?”

She blinked. “Certainly not.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be on my best behaviour.” Their eyes locked, and he gave her that smile again, the one that made the blood pound in her temples.

She could already feel her resolve crumbling. Their encounter the previous night had been… satisfying on so many levels, but there was so much more that had been left undone. They had fumbled together in darkness and he had taken full advantage of the opportunity to pleasure her, but she had scarcely touched him. In a way, this, seeing him naked and laughing in the light of day, was even more excruciatingly intimate.

She settled for frank honesty. “I don’t trust myself.”

He threw back his head at that and laughed in delight. “Oh my love, you shouldn’t have told me that.”

Without warning, he swung his weight onto his arms and pushed himself out of the water. She quickly averted her eyes, trying to look at anything that wasn’t a gloriously naked and dripping wet Kili, rising from the pool before her.

“What are you doing?” she said, alarmed.

He ignored her sat down on the bench beside her, leaving a chaste inch or two between their bodies and making no move to touch her. She could feel the heat rising from his skin in steaming tendrils between them.

“Did last night really happen?” he asked. “When I woke up this morning I thought I had been dreaming… a dream that left me with the memory of the smell of your hair and the feel of your skin.”

She shivered. “It was no dream.”

“Why do you fight it?” he said softly, taking a strand of her long auburn hair between two damp fingers and raising it to his lips.

She could feel herself leaning towards him, drawn by the heat of his body. She was asking herself the same question. At that moment she cared little for her position; she wanted nothing more than to touch him and run her fingers through the damp hair on his chest. Her lips parted slightly, and she tasted the tang of his sweat on the water in the air between them.

He reached out towards her and stopped, his fingers hovering an inch from the exposed skin at her neck.

“Do you want me to touch you?”

“Yes,” she breathed, and his fingers caressed her neck lightly, sweeping her hair out of the way. His hand slid down her back and settled on her waist before drawing her in against his body.


	5. Chapter 5

  
  


This was much gentler, must more intimate than their fevered encounter in the passageway. He was still dripping wet and, where he pressed against her, he soaked the barrier of clothes between their two bodies. Through the wet fabric, she could feel every contour of his body; the firm muscles of his arms as they circled her, the broad expanse of his chest as he crushed her against him and explored her mouth with his tongue. His kiss brought with it all the memories of the previous night, and she found herself moaning and pressing herself harder into his arms. Her hand slipped up between their bodies, smoothing the damp hair on the warm skin of his chest and running down across his taut stomach.

Emboldened by her response, Kili’s grip in her hair tightened, pulling her against his hungry mouth, and together they fell slowly backwards, their bodies entwined together and melded with a desperate heat, until she lay beneath him on the bench. He tore himself away from her lips and buried his face in her neck; she felt his teeth graze the soft skin beneath her ear and move up to seize her earlobe.

“Mmm… pointy ears,” he said with evident satisfaction, making her giggle helplessly as he nibbled around the pointed tip of said ear. 

This time however, she had some exploring of her own in mind. Until now, her hands had remained above his waist, despite the delightful accessibility of his nakedness. Now, she let her attention slide lower, following the line of curly hair downwards to where it thickened and coarsened, until her hands grasped something altogether more interesting. She felt him freeze for a second in surprise as her fingers wrapped around his arousal, then he let out a warm, heavy breath in her ear as her hand slid slowly up to close around the tip. 

Though he was short in stature, the same could not be said for other parts of his anatomy. It was warm and surprisingly heavy in her hands; she moved her fingers lightly over it from base to tip, rubbing her thumb gently across the little ridge near the top and smiled at the gratifying sound that came out of his throat as she did so. 

As she moved her hands faster, Kili began to kiss his way fervently down her neck and across her collarbone. His breath was coming in uneven gasps now, his fingers digging into her just a little too tightly. She could feel his control beginning to slip. 

Suddenly, he threw his weight onto his hands and reared up over her, lifting his pelvis out of her grasp. 

“Not yet,” he admonished.

“What’s wrong?” Now that the air around them had stilled, she realised that she too was breathing hard.

Unbelievably, he looked faintly embarrassed. “Well, it’s been a while, what with giant spiders and goblins and all sorts of other things going on…” 

She laughed. “And there I thought you had all sorts of things down your trousers,” she teased.

He grinned. “Just the one, I’m afraid.” 

“Either way, I think I need another look.”

He hid his laughter by kissing her neck again. Lowering himself onto her again, he moved his head downwards slowly, his teeth dragging at her clothes, just grazing skin, and once closing ever so lightly over one nipple. She felt him press his arousal hard against her thigh.

“There are better uses, you know,” he murmured against her stomach.

She arched an eyebrow at him. “Is that so?”

Still on her back, she slid down the bench until she was underneath him. His eyes followed her in astonishment until she moved down beyond their view. 

On level, she could finally get a proper look at his impressive erection. She placed her hands against his thighs on either side, and traced the tip of it gently with her tongue, appreciative of the strangled gasp that came from somewhere above her head. A drop of moisture gathered on the end and she tasted it for a second, swirling it against his skin with her tongue, and then wrapped her lips around him, letting him slide into her mouth. He tasted of a mingling of salt and the faint aroma of the soap that infused the waters of the baths.

He let out a sound somewhere between a groan and a deep sucking-in of air, and began to move his hips, pushing himself deeper into her mouth. She felt him pushing at her throat then withdrawing, and she let her tongue swirl around and discover every inch of him. He reached round and placed one hand behind her head as he slid his hips backwards and forwards, groaning with pleasure each time she licked at him.

She let her teeth graze him for an instant and he moaned loudly and shuddered. Beneath the smooth skin, he was as hard as granite; her lips felt bruised where they pressed against him. 

As he drew out again, she flicked her tongue around in a spiral, sucking hard as her lips reached the end. He made a guttural sound and plunged into her mouth again, this time holding her head against him. She felt him convulse beneath her hands and a warmth spilled down her throat, filling her senses with the masculine tang of him for an instant before it slipped away.

As soon as she moved out from under him, he rolled over and collapsed onto the bench, closing his eyes briefly. The expression on his face was an amusing mix of drained satiation and happiness; she couldn’t help but feel rather pleased that her efforts had caused such a response. 

As soon as he caught his breath, he turned his dark eyes on her and met hers with an intense gaze. “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”

She gave him what she hoped was an unreadable smile. “I hope you’re not too disappointed.”

He affected a tolerant shrug. “I’m not one to complain.”

She laughed, and was surprised to see a small flash of relief behind his eyes. He was still wary of her, she realised, even as he teased her. He didn’t fully understand her yet, and he was still cautious of scaring her off. She could understand why. She couldn’t even rationalise her actions to herself; the thought of what she had just done was enough to send a blush creeping up her neck. She couldn’t explain her response to him, how he drove her to do things that her rational, un-hazed mind shied away from. Her response to him should not be able to survive in the lucid world. _Any moment now,_ she thought, _I’ll come back to reality._

He pushed himself up onto his hands and regarded her for a moment. She caught her breath at the way his stomach muscles rippled beneath his skin. Reality? She almost laughed at the futility of it. Watching him, even at such a small movement, she felt her own muscles clench deliciously, deep in her belly, as a wave of desire passed over her.

He held out his hand to her. 

“Come on. I still need a bath.”


	6. Chapter 6

Bathed, dried and dressed in clean clothes, Kili was a sight to make any young elf maiden’s eyes grow round. Around the height of a teenage elfling, Tauriel thought with amusement, but with the tight muscle and heady masculinity of a fully-grown male. The tighter fitting styles of elven clothes suited him more than she cared to admit. When he moved, she could see the contours of his muscles roll beneath them and pick out lines on his body that made her insides turn uncomfortable summersaults. _Hmm... perhaps the pure mind of a young elf maiden wouldn’t be able to cope after all._

His earlier good mood, however, seemed to have evaporated. “I feel ridiculous,” he grumbled, plucking at the dark green cloth. “Where did you even manage to find clothes that would fit me?”

She hid a smile. “They are children’s garments.”

He rolled his eyes. “Of course they are.” He sounded resigned. “When can I have my own things back?”

“I told you: as soon as they’re clean.”

He muttered something – she assumed it was uncomplimentary – in dwarvish.

Something was bothering him, and she didn’t think his mood was entirely down to dissatisfaction with her choice of clothes for him. She searched for the words. Should she talk to him? Their relationship thus far, she realised, hadn’t actually involved much talking.

“Is everything... all right? She asked tentatively.

He sighed and took one of her hands between his. Touching her seemed to steady him, and the frown lines between his eyes receded slightly.

"Thorin... my king... and all my kin... we set off on this quest together. But now I’m stuck here and they... they must be almost at the mountain by now. I don’t know what kind of danger...” He looked down at his hands and her pale fingers twined around his. “I should be with them,” he said finally.

She nodded. “The promise your king made mine – the promise you’re here to ensure. What was it?”

He looked surprised. “They didn’t tell you? It’s a tale from before I was born, when Thror was king under the mountain. The woodland king – your king, I suppose, though it's odd to think of it like that; he was always just a character from a tale – came to his halls and asked him to fashion a necklace of white gems. The jewel-smiths of Erebor were famed for their craft, and they made a necklace the like of which had not been seen to that day or ever since – a necklace of white starlight. But when the time came, the woodland king refused to pay. He mocked Thror, and claimed that he valued the talents of his smiths overly high. So Thror kept the jewels—”

“The white gems of Lasgalen,” she interrupted softly.

He smiled. “The very same. Thorin promised to relinquish them, when we take back the mountain, in return for the company’s freedom.”

“And if he doesn’t, your life is forfeit,” she finished for him.

He nodded. “Something like that.”

“Are you afraid?”

He looked surprised. “Nah. Thorin gave his word. He would never break it.”

She was silent for a while and, when she spoke, she chose her words carefully. “That is not how that story is told among my people. In the tale I know, King Thranduil and the dwarven king came to an agreement: the elves would provide the materials – the purest raw silver and flawless, uncut jewels – and the dwarven smiths would use their craftsmanship to mould them. But when the dwarven king looked upon the jewels he found he could not bear to part with them, and so he demanded a price for them that King Thranduil could not – or would not – pay. Some versions of the story even say that he asked for the life of Thranduil’s son as payment.” She looked him in the eye. “Then, so all elf-children are told, the greedy dwarven king took the jewels, made from the finest materials the elves possessed, and locked them away in a place where only he would be able to see and admire them.”

Kili didn’t seem bothered by her retelling. “Your story could be true. The greed of Thror is hardly a secret, even among his kin.” He shook himself. “Still, we have more important things to think about.”

“We do?”

“Of course. You’re under orders to guard me day and night.”

“What has that—?”

He turned his face to her with a smile, and she could see from the way his dark eyes gleamed with mischief that his melancholia had passed. 

“I’m terribly worried,” he said seriously, “that this means we will have to sleep together in the same room.”

She laughed. “Your worries are misplaced. There are chambers set aside for you in the east wing.”

He tutted. “So impractical. So I suppose you will simply lock me in for the night?”

“I should think so.”

“Will it stop there, or would you like to tie me to the bedposts as well?”

She frowned. “I don’t think that will be necess—“ She stopped short when she caught sight of his expression. “Stop that!”

He grinned irrepressibly. “Oh my love, so many ages old, and yet at times so innocent.” He leaned in towards her and buried his nose in her neck. “Now all I can imagine is you tying me to your bed.”

She rolled her eyes at him and stood up. “If you can control your imagination for a short while, I’ll show you where your rooms are. The night-time is beloved of my people, but it must be long past bedtime for your folk.”


End file.
